


Practical Blackmail

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7405282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius steals Hermione’s journal. What will he ask of her before returning it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lucius was exchanging pleasantries with Horace Slughorn in Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop when Hermione Granger entered. He was, unfortunately, well aware that the young witch was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. He had observed her almost daily throughout the summer, sprawled in a patch of sunshine in the park beside his Hogsmeade residence, reading or scribbling away or simply basking in the warm rays that came down from above.

 

Lucius prepared to greet the girl with a sneer appropriately leaden with disdain. “Ms. Granger,” he drawled coldly. The witch’s gaze was full of contempt before she turned her back on him.

 

“Horace,” she exclaimed warmly, setting aside her belongings to hug the other wizard.

 

Lucius was momentarily stunned. What had just happened? Had the wisp of a witch just snubbed him? _Him_? Affronted, Lucius quickly sought a means for revenge. He espied a familiar red book atop Hermione’s purchases. He’d seen the girl with it often enough to assume it held some value to her and deftly swept it into his robes as he strode towards the door.

 

As Lucius entered the privacy of his new home, the tension in his shoulders eased. Since the divorce, Narcissa lived in the manor with Draco. Lucius allowed it simply to prevent another year-long argument. Besides, he would never again call the place ‘home.’ In his new home, Lucius had created a space unlike he’d ever had before. A charmed hat rack divested him of his summer cloak and hung it in the closet. Lucius carried the little book as he climbed the stairs to the top floor; his sanctuary.

 

The top floor of the four-story building was fully enclosed by windows which were enchanted to let in light but nothing else. Outside, the windows appeared to be stone. Lucius was fond of watching. From his secret refuge he could see so many things; he could watch witches and wizards pass by below, could spy the owls carrying post, and then, of course, there was the ever-changing English weather. Rain was practically a new experience under the enchanted ceiling. It was from this hideout that Lucius had observed Hermione writing in her red book.

 

Lucius examined the book after pouring himself a drink. The tome was quite small. It had appeared larger in her hands. Lucius gleaned that she must be quite petite and not just short. It appeared to be spelled shut. It was unlikely that Lucius would ever deduce what spell the cleverest witch of her age would choose to protect her privacy.

 

“What is the very last spell one would expect Hermione Granger to use?” The wizard pondered as he testily tapped his wand on the book’s cover. “An Unforgivable,” he chuckled to himself.

 

“ _Imperio_!” he cast, still amused, and almost choked on his scotch as the pages fell open.

 

* * *

 

The Three Broomsticks was an asylum from the castle any night that it wasn’t teeming with students. Hermione waggled her fingers in farewell as Hagrid escorted a rather tipsy Headmistress back to Hogwarts. Hermione was expecting Neville to join her but the wizard that sat down and poured himself a glass from her bottle of wine was most certainly _not_ Neville.

 

“I am delighted to find that your intelligence does not stunt your interest in wizards,” purred Lucius Malfoy.

 

Hermione glared. “What?”

 

“Tell me, what baseline do you use to predict every wizard’s potential level of skill in the boudoir?”

 

Hermione gasped so loudly that several heads turned towards her table. She could feel all of the blood drain from her face and her stomach threatened to revisit dinner.

 

“I am flattered, Ms. Granger, that you find me – how did you put it? ‘Shag-worthy’?”

 

“Where is it?” she demanded in a voice that was razor-sharp. Never once had it crossed her mind that her misplaced journal had fallen into the enemy’s hands.

 

Lucius took a maddeningly slow sip of her wine. He shot the wine a look of disgust and pointedly pushed away his glass. “I assure you; it is perfectly safe. As long as I am, as well.”

 

“May I have it back?” Hermione bit out. Her mind was racing with horror. Lucius Malfoy had her diary. He’d managed to open it and read it! It was like a nightmare come true.

 

“Perhaps,” was his smug reply.

 

“You want something?” Hermione was almost relieved. If he wanted something in exchange, there was a chance of preserving her good name. She despised that he was enjoying her reaction so much but she couldn’t conceal it. He’d shocked her and she was reeling.

 

“What do you want?” Hermione asked blackly, anxious to complete the transaction. She might spare herself a lot of trauma.

 

“Right now, a scotch. Where is that Rosmerta?” Lucius muttered, dramatically looking around for the witch.

 

“From _me_ , Mr. Malfoy. What is it you want from me?” Hermione’s humor had gone quite dark. She had no tolerance for the wizard’s attempt at sport. Lucius must have sensed Hermione’s limit because he sobered and looked her in the eye.

 

“I want to be respectable again.”

 

“I am of no help there,” Hermione argued.

 

“You are wrong,” Lucius countered, smugness crawling across his features once more.

 

Hermione studied the wizard for a moment but realized that she had no choice. Lucius would, undoubtedly and gleefully, make public her personal thoughts in the most obscene ways.

 

“What have you got in mind?” she asked, resigned and livid.


	2. Chapter 2

As expected, not a soul at the museum benefit greeted Lucius. Not a single wizard or witch so much as nodded in his direction. Lucius loathed being a pariah. He missed the days when he entered a room and everyone wanted his gold. It seemed that his limitless wealth no longer bought social acceptability. He needed something more. He needed to earn the respect of the masses. He needed someone like Hermione Granger by his side.

 

A commotion at the museum’s entrance drew Lucius’ attention. There were outraged gasps from the older witches and tittering from the younger ones. Lucius espied shimmering robes that appeared to change color as the crowd parted. The attention-seeking witch wore a ridiculous hat that also changed color, to clash horribly with said robes. Lucius pitied anyone the eyesore decided to engage in conversation. He nearly choked on his scotch when the walking blight waved at him.

 

“There you are, Lucius!”

 

Lucius went perfectly still as Hermione, clad in the loudest robes he’d ever laid eyes on, joined him. He was shocked by her choice of attire but reasoned that she was far from an idiot. She had a purpose in wearing such ridiculous garments. Lucius accurately deduced that her purpose was to embarrass him.

 

“I’m so sorry for being late! There was a cat fighting an owl just outside – I had to help!” she gushed, watching him closely.

 

Lucius stared at her, offended by her robes but, despite himself, a bit amused as well. ‘Alright, Hermione,’ he thought. “I’m pleased that you were able to make it,” he purred.

 

He relished the disappointment in her eyes. She’d hoped he would walk away or ignore her. Instead, Lucius offered her his arm. The witch looked as though she’d rather touch a flubberworm as she slipped her hand onto it.

 

Once the novelty of the little witch’s sensational robes died down, two couples actually engaged in conversation with Lucius and his...companion.

 

~*~

 

Lucius arranged for Hermione to accompany him to a strategic meeting of the Wizengamot. It was the first of many meetings to review their function and purpose. Lucius hoped for an appointment and felt that Hermione’s presence by his side would draw the right attention, no matter what she wore. However, he was unprepared for what she _wasn’t_ wearing when he gallantly accepted her cloak.

 

Lucius tutted and attempted to put her cloak back over her shoulders. So much skin! The elders would have heart attacks right there! Hermione merely stepped out of his reach and waved at anyone bold enough to stare. She wore some Muggle dress that barely covered anything. Lucius hurried to catch up to her as she climbed the stairs to the public seating. He hoped he might block the view a bit but Hermione began calling out greetings to bring attention to herself.

 

“I know what you’re doing,” Lucius hissed at her when they were finally seated. She had made a fuss about how far they were from the proceedings and marched up and down the stairs in search of better, making quite a spectacle of herself. How could such a short witch have such long legs?

 

Hermione had the tenacity to grin at him. She reached into her bag and withdrew a crinkling bag of candies. The bag made a racket and each little wrapper made another level of cacophony in the hallowed room. Whenever someone turned to glare at Hermione for the noise, she loudly offered them a sweet. Lucius didn’t know if he should strangle her or laugh. It was difficult to concentrate while seated next to a witch with bare arms and legs. The sight of so much skin kept drawing his gaze.

 

In an unexpected turn of events, Hermione became absorbed in the Wizengamot’s agenda and forgot about all of the other distractions she had brought in her bag. She also forgot her intentions to misbehave and laugh obnoxiously at inappropriate times. She and Lucius shared whispered comments throughout the meeting, dissecting the group’s discussion and opining what they ought to do. Not until the meeting ended, did Hermione realize she had abandoned her mission to embarrass Lucius in public.

 

As the tall wizard followed her down the steps, he appeared anything but embarrassed. Hermione noticed the looks she was drawing from other wizards and, this time, did not dodge her cloak when Lucius settled it on her.

 

“Thank you for coming. Your company was...entertaining,” the wizard smirked. His gaze traveled down her body, full of appreciation, as if he could see straight through her robes.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. She leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she whispered in his ear. She winked at the suddenly scowling wizard and sauntered away.

 

~*~

 

The setting was public but the table was private. Hermione’s Muggle denims and ridiculous lion-head hat drew only temporary attention when their waiter popped by. Lucius cringed as her hat roared. Again. Hermione looked too smug for his appetite and the wizard decided he’d had enough.

 

“Borrowed it from a friend,” she offered, eating with her fingers.

 

“Are you quite though?” Lucius drawled with distaste, eyes following her deliberate wiping of her fingers on her white blouse.

 

“Not yet. Are you going to eat that?” she replied, reaching out and grabbing a chunk of his chicken.

 

“Your efforts are being wasted here,” Lucius added.

 

Hermione’s eyes darted to his and she shrugged. Her hat chose that moment to roar and, quicker than he knew he could, Lucius drew his wand and silenced it. Hermione did not bother to contain her laughter. A cool rage ran through him. Her knowing gaze only stirred him further.

 

“Aren’t you tired of this?” he hissed.

 

Hermione recognized that she’d summoned Lucius’ anger to the surface and she delicately wiped her mouth with her napkin. She’d seen his disgust with her poor manners and, although she wished to irritate the wizard, she had no desire to draw wands.

 

Looking him boldly in the eye, Hermione leaned over the table. “There are many ways in which I might recover my journal.”

 

Hermione noted the moment Lucius’ rage turned into something else. He mirrored her action, leaning over the table towards her.

 

“I dare you to try.”

 

The heat that zipped through Hermione had nothing to do with embarrassment or a sudden change of climate. Lucius liked the idea of Hermione challenging him and, Merlin save her, she did too. For a moment, Hermione considered the wizard as a potential lover and she nearly forgot to breathe. She had never thought of him in that way before and she shivered as she forced herself to look away.

 

“You’re blackmailing me,” was all she could whisper as she stiffly got up and left.

 

Lucius remained alone at the table for a bit, relishing how the witch had stirred his blood as he allowed it to cool. Something had just changed significantly between them. The wall between antagonists and lovers was not as thick as he would have guessed. Lucius thoughtfully rubbed his jaw, almost unwillingly imagining Hermione without her Muggle denims, spoiled blouse...and roaring lion-head hat.


	3. Chapter 3

It was unusual enough that Professor Granger received post. When an owl swooped low to deposit a tiny vase before her and the vase expanded to fifty times its size, it gained the attention of the entire Great Hall. Then, an extravagant arrangement of red flowers burst forth from the vase’s rim, gold glitter shooting high into the air to shimmer slowly as it fell. Every student and adult gasped. Hermione blinked. She knew where the monstrosity had come from but she was stumped as to why.

 

Hagrid, the beloved oaf, snatched up the gold card peeking from the red petals and read aloud in his booming voice “Lucius” before Hermione could stop him.

 

“Not Lucius _Malfoy_ ,” he reasoned. “Couldna’ been him.”

 

Hermione felt her face grow warm. She might very well be blushing to have every eye on her, speculating on the reasons that Lucius, _yes_ , Malfoy, would send her a bouquet designed to melt any woman’s heart. Only Hargrid believed Lucius incapable of the gesture. Hermione continued to stare at the display, utterly at a loss. The whispers around her gradually returned to normal conversation. The opposite took place in her mind.

 

 _‘That black-hearted Slytherin!_ ’ she thought. _‘How dare he?’_

 

Hermione hid her fury with cold precision and managed to appear embarrassed by her bouquet as she levitated it before her on the way to her quarters. As she settled it onto the small table situated by the window, she was torn. Her immediate response was to destroy the offending flowers; however, part of her found them lovely. It would be a shame to get rid of something so beautiful because she didn’t like the wizard that sent them.

 

As she waited for the night to deepen, Hermione caught herself glancing at the lush, red petals several times. Obviously, Lucius meant to mock her. She had every intention of facing him and putting an end to his game but she would have to sneak out of the castle full of children to do it.

 

It was not yet cold enough for snow but the night was chilly and still as Hermione marched towards Hogsmeade. The small town had grown after Voldemort’s fall. Merchants preferred the safety and protection of the all-wizard location. There were no lights in the windows

 

The path to Lucius’ home was familiar because it was only paces away from her summer haunt in the park. Hermione wondered if there was any connection between her favorite spot and Lucius’ sudden attention, but she reached his door before she could complete the thought. She slammed the knocker sharply, without a care for waking the neighbors.

 

Light bloomed behind the windows of the house, trailing from the top and ending behind the front door. Hermione was unprepared for the disarming sight of Lucius in a dressing robe, blinking as if she’d woken him. His jaw was dark with stubble. Hermione wondered why it wasn’t as pale as his hair. A bit of her fury dissipated.

 

“Ms. Granger?” he asked, silver gaze glittering at her in the moonlight.

 

“Why did you do it?” she hissed.

 

Lucius held his door wide. “Won’t you come in?”

 

“Why?” Hermione asked again, frustrated and confused.

 

“To bring you here, of course,” was his enigmatic reply.

 

“Why?” Hermione demanded, stomping her foot like a toddler.

 

“Come inside or you’ll never find out.” Lucius’ tone was sharp.

 

Hermione realized that he would not speak with her on his doorstep. She also noted that her anger had carried her quite far in the middle of the night. Perhaps she should have waited to confront the wizard. _‘What have I done?’_ Hermione was a bit astonished with herself.

 

Hermione stepped into Lucius’ home, chagrined. He led her to a room at the end of a narrow hall.  

 

“Please,” he offered, gesturing to a comfortable looking chair before the fire that burst to life when they entered. They appeared to be in an office or study but the light was so dim, Hermione couldn’t see it properly.

 

“I’ll be a moment,” he said and left her alone.

 

Hermione watched the flickering fire, wishing she’d waited until morning. Lucius was temptation personified with his chest flashing through the gap in his robe, fuzzy chin, and tousled hair... Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, fixing his image into her memory. Since she’d left him at dinner that night, she’d had terribly vivid dreams – all of which, he’d starred in. Temptation aside, he could have been bald and Hermione would feel glad to see him. Everything came back to that last dinner...

 

Was she in his home because she was angry or because she wanted him..?

 

“Hermione?”

 

“I’m not asleep,” she automatically yelped, eyes popping open. Lucius was leaning over her and her stomach did a backflip. Suddenly, his mouth was on hers and she was on her feet, pulling at the knot holding his robe shut.

 

“Wait, wait,” Hermione gasped, taking a stumbling step back. Lucius’ hands let her go for a moment but then grabbed her again.

 

“Your journal,” he began. Hermione didn’t care what Lucius was talking about. Her brain had turned to mush. She leaned into him and kissed him again, relishing the way that his grip tightened on her robes. She boldly slipped her fingers into his dressing robe to rasp her nails through the fine hair on his chest and effectively slowed their movements. He sucked in a breath as she drew designs on his stomach. Hermione’s own breath caught as she felt him gently slipping free the buttons down her back.

 

“No, wait,” Hermione breathed, pushing at Lucius. “I shouldn’t do this.”

 

“Why ever not?” Lucius asked, eyes dark with passion.

 

“My journal,” Hermione said lamely, struggling to find coherence.

 

“I was returning it,” Lucius replied. He levitated her beloved, red leather-bound book into her hand.

 

Hermione ran her hand fondly over the book. “You want the social acceptance I bring.”

 

“I make no secret of it,” Lucius purred. He pulled Hermione into his arms, once more. “But I want you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Dedicated to Rehaniah! Thank you for beta-reading for me! You’re awesome!  
>  **Originally published:** Apr 23, 2013


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